Doug Donnan Passes Away

It is with heavy heart that I must announce that Doug Donnan has passed away today. He was such an interesting person. He spent a lot of time here in St Louis at my business Starrs and I helped him post this blog.  He was ill for the last six months but refused to see a Dr which was his way he was a maverick and a cowboy in real life and until the end. A brave person was Doug Donnan.

STRANGE AND MYSTERIOUS WAYS

Doug Donnan                                                                                  

Executive Editor/OMNI-GENRE+ 

 

            







STRANGE AND MYSTERIOUS WAYS

                                                   

  by

            

   Doug Donnan  

                                                

    

     "Tell us professor just how often does this alignment business happen?" a young blonde

reporter asked. She had a probing intensity that shocked even her. It was her first actual

assignment, but one would never have guessed it by the way she conducted herself.

     "Well miss," Professor Vanderbilt began as he slowly pulled away his chromium, wire

rimmed glasses as if he were about to address a room filled with impatient students. "The

chances of this ever happening again are, at best, infinitesimal. Einstein proclaimed that

'God does not play dice with the universe!'  This arrangement of Jupiter's moons, all in a

row if you will, would be a long shot at any casino in Las Vegas or Atlantic City!" 

    . "But what does it all have to do with us here on Big Blue?" the woman pressed.

"Layman's lingo if you would please.”

     "Okay, I’ll try," Vanderbilt said as he grasped the podium just beneath the huge bouquet

of microphones. "The giant Jupiter has a plethora of moons, large and small, some very

close to it, and some far away, from the massive icy Ganymede to the tiny Leda. They are,

each and all, captured in the great planet’s gravitational net. There are at least sixteen

moons, at last count, orbiting her. That's a lot of satellites young lady and if you have them

all in alignment sandwiched between Earth, including the eclipsing Mars and our lonely

old Moon, we might just have ourselves one heck of a… moving Christmas!"

     "That's not that far off sir. It’s only a few weeks," an older television anchorman called

out as he fanned some fingers up in the air for effect. "Should we be concerned?"

     Professor Vanderbilt cupped a hand above his eyes before replacing his glasses. He

stood awash in the bright camera lights in his white lab coat. He was secretly enjoying his

fifteen minutes of fame.

     "Well, quite frankly sir--we're not certain about that. Some of my colleagues pooh-

pooh this Jovian lunar parade away as merely a very rare astronomical phenomenon while

still others are ready to sound the alarm for some resounding global catastrophe."

     "What do you think? Is something big gonna’ happen, something…major?"

     "I think that this unique experience just may affect a few of us rather… passionately.”

     "Maybe it’s just me doc, but that kind of passionate experience doesn't sound very

sexy," crew cut offered back.    

       Soon newspapers and magazines worldwide jumped all over the extraterrestrial event:    

Moon Riddler! for Time magazine. 

Queue Balls! quipped Newsweek

Jupiter Jam! announced The National Enquirer

    

What Goes Around Comes Around! USA Today  

From far and wide even the most modest of local newspapers joined the craze:

The Sixteen Moons of Christmas! Headlined North Carolina's popular Raleigh Observer

      And so what began as a whimsical curiosity for most rational people around the globe

soon became a growing concern as December twenty-fifth and the alignment of the

sixteen distant  moons drew near. The professor grew ever more concerned, eventually

extremely apprehensive.

*     *     *

     "Come to bed Godfrey," Mrs.Vanderbilt sighed as she squinted out from the crater-

like depression of her down pillow. "For heaven's sake it's 3 o'clock in the morning!

You're going to stir up the grand kids downstairs on their pallets with all your pacing."

     "Ssshh Mariane--I can't sleep! In a few hours they'll be set in line, all of them! The

Galileans--Io, Europa, Callisto, Ganymede and then falling in perfect alignment Metis,

Adrastea, Almalthea, Thebe, Leda, Himalia, Lysithea, Elara, Ananke, Carme, Pasiphae,

and Sinope all tugging away with the mighty force of Jupiter behind them! The effect

of it all, the gravitational force and pull on us. There'll be devastation Mariane—

heaving, catastrophic shifting tides, Tsunamis, global flooding and then..."

     "Oh stop that nonsense Godfrey Vanderbilt," she sighed. “You're driving me crazy with

all this moon business. You’ve managed to convince everybody but yourself that there's

nothing to it all. She rolled over on her side like some large, foundering ocean liner. "Come

back to bed. Tomorrow is Christmas day for heaven's sake!"

     Vanderbilt loped over to the triptych of bump out bedroom bay windows that

overlooked the snow covered back courtyard of the two story brownstone. The moonlight

seemed almost phosphorescent as it washed over everything below. He massaged

his pulsing temples with the very tips of his fingers as he gazed up at the twinkling

darkness of the sky. He focused his attention on the radiant North Star… Polaris,

everyman's ultimate guide for hope and direction. A glistening tear wandered down his

cheek, controlled only by gravity and fate. He made a silent prayer as he pressed the

sweating palms of his hands against the frosted window pane:

    

      “Dear God, here and now on the birthday of your only begotten son, save us once

again. Intervene again. Spare us the pain and suffering of this catastrophe. Let it be.

Please… let it be.”

*     *     *

     In the morning, the Vanderbilt house was alive with the excitement and wonder of

Christmas. Sweet smells wafted from the kitchen. Singing and chatter by the green and

silver tree--but for professor Vanderbilt pressing away on the TV remote control

everything seemed Norman Rockwell perfect.

     "Godfrey! Please turn that thing off and come join us in the kitchen for eggnog."

     Vanderbilt was studying the screen with grave intent and interest. Finally he placed

the remote back down on the coffee table.

     "I think it's over and we've made it through!" he said to no one in particular. He

reached for the phone on the mahogany end table and was about to make some phone

calls. His green and red aproned wife came and stood behind him. She placed her floured

hands on his shoulders and began to kneed them like cookie dough.

     "I told you everything would be okay Godfrey. Nothing happened! Remember, the

Lord and this universe, must work in strange and mysterious ways.

Please come along now and join us in the kitchen for some of the nice eggnog…  'mmm!"

     Vanderbilt raised himself up with a deep sigh of satisfaction and followed the cooking

scents into the white warmth of the kitchen. It was true nothing had happened. His wife

was right--strange and mysterious ways indeed!   

                                        

                                         December 25 south eastern Africa

                                     Kaokoveld region of the Namib Desert

    

     Vengapi Pinjvanda had guided his herd of milking goats and rather extensive Himba

family through this region many times in the past. The Kunene River that snaked its way

through this particularly arid and desolate section of the Namib had always been an

oasis. But now, in the last year or so, the Kunene had dried up into a parched red clay rut.

It had become only a pathetic thin highway for stealthy sand lizards and a crude, twisting

runway for scavenging vultures. As he sat there with his long willowy black arms crossed

over his knees, he tilted his head down as if all at once the total weight of his frustrated

efforts to exist had pushed down upon him like some great and merciless weight. His

pipe-stemmed children in their pathetic faded American relief T-shirts and the struggling

sea of emaciated goats all gathered around him hoping that somehow he could bring the

cool flow of water back to them. It was a cruel scene of futility and barren despair.

     And just then…

     There was an impatient rumbling, a shuddering tremor off in the distance. They could

all feel the quivering vibration along the dried mud of the crevasse that was the Kunene.

Then, like an eye-blistering mirage, the waters rushed past them. A thin, muddy ribbon at

first, and then, gradually, a churning silver flow of refreshing liquid life. They staggered

forward and cautiously dipped themselves into the rushing water. Many of them fell to

their knees there at the bank of the rejuvenated river. They scooped the dried cups of

their hands down into the cool wetness and pulled up a refreshing drink. The skeletal

goats fanned out and waded in, bleating and crying out as they felt and slurped at the

crystal waters of the revived Kunene.

     Vengapi raised himself up and blew out a thin sigh of ecstasy. He shuffled forward

and stepped out into the miraculous river. He stood there for a moment letting the cool,

rushing water massage his burning feet before he had even noticed it off on the lavender

horizon, just above the jagged mountain range. The herdsman cupped his crusted hand

over his squinting eyes and tried to focus on the star. It was the silver star of guidance

hanging up in the bright blue sky like a flickering campfire. Here, in the light of day, it

shone down for all to see. Vengapi collapsed to his knees and wept at the strange and

miraculous beauty of it all.

                                                            

                                                        ___The End___

WATCHING MATHILDE #253

DOUG DONNANExecutive Editor/OMNI-GENRE+MAGAZINE!                       

donnan.doug@yahoo.com

               

           

        









WATCHING MATHILDE #253

  by

  
  DOUG DONNAN

    “Well, Leefwater you’re the high-falutin’ astrochemist.

What do you make of this whole business?” Professor Lemp

asked with a bewildered shake of his bulbous bald head.

 Gordon Leefwater held out a large folded stack of

spectroscopic computer printouts as might a tidy hospital

orderly present a fresh stack of cotton bedding. The esteemed

Doctor Leefwater (who had more degrees than a rectal

thermometer!) possessed a swollen ego as well as an extremely

arid drollness.

     “Make of it?” he snapped back. “With all due respect

professor, I wasn’t consciously aware that I was supposed

to make anything of it.”

He plopped the cargo of green and white hardcopy down on

Lemp’s chromium work table where there were already sizeable

towers of astronomy periodicals, scientific journals and various

other assorted documents and research papers all of which were

related to the subject of asteroids. One asteroid in particular,

Mathilde #253, had gotten their undivided attention for the last

48 hours. This seemingly insignificant wandering little orb,

cruising all around way out there in space with the lion share

of the other rotating asteroids between the immense sweeping

orbits of the blushing Mars and massive Jupiter, had recently

been observed (quite by accident by a group of tenacious

amateur astronomers) to be acting rather strange.

     “Listen here Leefwater,” Lemp sighed as he guided his

wire rim eyeglasses up into the protruding loft of his open

forehead. “I sure wish we had never stumbled onto this crazy

can of worms. Do you know what I mean? This whole thing is

insane. Back in ’97 the Near Earth Asteroid Rendezvous

Spacecraft told us all we thought we ever really ought to know

about this little biscuit,” he blew out as he braced himself

up and rolled his eyes all about the vaulted periphery of the

dimly lighted planetarium. “But, nooo here we are well over

ten years later and we come across this! Please help me out

Leefwater. What in the world…the solar system I should say,

is going on way out there?”

     Leefwater straightened up and pushed his gnarled fists

up against the starched pockets of his long white laboratory

smock. He was as tall as he was arrogant. He looked down the

beak of his aquiline nose and over his thin black readers at

Lemp as if he were some pathetic lost dog or other domestic

house pet. He quickly decided that he now had the exasperated

astronomer right where he wanted him.

     “Okay Lemp, I’ll just cut to the chase and tell you what

I think might be going on with this little asteroid of yours.             

Is that what you want to hear from me?” he scolded with his

lantern jaw poised up and out with a stoic confidence.

     “Yes that’s precisely what I want from you,” Lemp responded

to the curt challenge. “Not reams of color imagery and

spectroscopic printouts. Just your learned, personal opinion…

that is if it’s not too much trouble.”

     “As you well know professor,” Leefwater began as if he

was about to conduct an impromptu student lecture. “Astronomers

have been zooming in on these roving planetoids since the very

early nineteenth century. The Celestial Police, as they call

themselves, discovered the colossal Ceres moving around out there.

After that it seems all hell broke loose. It took some considerable

time but eventually one asteroid, as they came to refer to them,

after another began popping up. The rookies and the regulars

were picking them up with their telescopes like so many rocky

space marbles.”

     “Yes, yes…but what does any of that have to do with—“

     “Hear me out,” Leefwater cut him off with a karate-like

hand gesture. “Let me see if I can try and get to the bottom

of all this.” He began to slowly pace about the floor in wide

concentric circles. “Let us begin by establishing a rudimen-

tary list of generally accepted facts about this heavenly

little body…the Divine Miss M.”

     Very well,” Lemp conceded as he threw his arms out in

total surrender.       

     “Now, as you said, ever since NASA’s ‘NEAR’ spacecraft

did its asteroid belt tour of duty way back in mid-June of

1997, we have come to know plenty about Mathilde. First of

all she is a C type, carbon rich, main belt asteroid,” he

proclaimed as he gazed up at the vaulted ceiling as if now

pondering all the wonders of the universe. “Second, as our

asteroid friends go, Mathilde is rather large…approximately

fifty kilometers in diameter. Third, it has an extremely

slow rotation rate. Just a little over seventeen days. Some

of our esteemed colleagues will swear that she hardly spins

around at all!”

     “But, what about the mysterious lights, the numerous

and odd perturbations and all the crazy—”

     “Please!” Leefwater almost shouted as he tossed out yet

another silencing backhand chop.

      Lemp sagged back into his chair as though gravity had

suddenly become simply just too much for him.

     “Thank you,” Leefwater exclaimed as he continued his

circuitous parade. “It has no moons, no ice or water only

a high measure of silicate. She’s very porous almost like

styrofoam. Mathilde has five huge facial craters. She’s an

odd ball that’s for sure.” He stopped short and executed a

slow about face. He eyeballed the flustered Lemp.

     “But—” Lemp peeped.

     “It’s the government professor. Surely even you can see

that!” Leefwater now almost whispered condescendingly behind 

the back of his open hand.

     Lemp was now numb. His pale brown eyes glazed over like

tiny waxing moons.

     “Oh for pity sakes man, you people, you silly ass astronomers.

You stare into space all the live long night and you

never see things as they truly are…the real world. The stars

and planets get in your way!” Leefwater started towards

Lemp’s table as might a confident trial lawyer approach the

jury box for his closing argument. “Let us put two and two

together,” he sighed as he flipped an impatient look down at

his glistening Rolex. “It seems that we have all these things

going on way out on this little insignificant asteroid named

Mathilde—who in the hell cares? What’s it all about you ask?

Why this and what about that? I’m going to let you in on a

little secret my starry eyed friend. This ‘can of worms’ as

you call it should be left alone. Just roll over on this

and let it be…capiche? Somebody is up to something way out

there and I’ll bet you my last dollar that it’s our government boys.

Some strategic nuclear missile base, a secret radioactive waste

depository…perhaps a new Area 51? God only knows what it

might be. But, I’m telling you, as sure as I’m wasting my time

with you, to swing that big ass telescope of yours in a different

direction or you’ll someday soon have all hell to pay!” 

     Leefwater pointed his long index finger down at the

mesmerized Lemp as if it were the barrel of a pistol.

     “I’m giving you fair warning on this my good professor,

stay away from this Mathilde business. And for that matter

any other little asteroid anomalies you just might come

across. Do you catch my drift?”

     He shot another rude look at his wristwatch and shook

his head. “I’m late for an important meeting professor, but

I truly enjoyed our little tête-à-tête,” he said sarcastically. And,

at that, he did scurry off for the door and quickly whisk out.

*     *     *

     “Yes sir that’s correct. There are five of these rather

large craters and this is the first one we’ve begun full-

fledged construction efforts on. This particular AUI condo-

village we call Solar Hollow. Clever huh? Watch your step as

we descend. These state of the art robotic multi-rung extension

ladders can be pretty tricky.”

     Congressman Neville Garr, feeling rather foolish in the

silver and orange neoprene EVA space suit and accompanying

omni-directional wedge space helmet, had a death grip on the

vibrating sides of the ladder as he cautiously followed the

Astronomical Units Incorporated project foreman Lester Woods

down and down into the pit and progress of the vast crater.

The highly covert construction site was alive with activity.

Thousands of massive incandescent light towers were spread

out and around everywhere creating a veritable forest of

golden metal stanchions all aglow in an almost blinding sun-

like luminescence. There were endless stacks of gunmetal

blue Plexi-Plate siding and great spools of multi-colored

electrical wiring as far as the eye could see. All along

the periphery of the vast workplace were mountains of white

plastic piping and coils of flexible tubing. Thousands of

puff suited construction workers came and went from the

crawling yellow half-track work vehicles. And, as if purposefully

choreographing the complete astronomical ballet below were the

elongated swinging metal arms of hundreds of gigantic cranes

slowly swinging about delivering their heavy designated payloads.

The entire affair a literal beehive of astral-condominium activity.

     “It all seems so surreal,” Garr breathed out from deep

inside his helmet. He had reached the final rungs of the

living ladder. A dramatic pause, as he scanned the impossible

vastness of the undertaking surrounding him. He was almost…

speechless.

     Woods slowly extended his puffy spacesuit arms upward

as if signaling some kind of momentous touchdown. “Yes sir,”

he cried out. “The last thing we’ll do on these projects after the

water reservoir points, sanitation and refuse details and a host of

other transfer and delivery scenarios are ironed out is remove that

over-hanging cover membrane you see stretched out above us. Then

it’s just a matter of positioning the gigantic plexi-dome bubble that

will cover the entire Terra-Formed site. He lowered his arms and

turned to the gawking congressman. “That’s only a few months

down the road Mister Garr. Hopefully everything we’re doing way

out here will be legal and proper by then. I know that AUI wants to

have this whole shebang done on the up and up…you know, take

all the deception and mystery out of  it all. By the way congressman,

how is that redoubtable genius of ours doing with the cover-up part

of all this? What’s his name again…Luftwaffe?

     “That’s Leefwater! He’s trying to keep the big name

astronomers off our back, but the pesky amateurs are everywhere

and they start little fires with their probing questions about this

and that out here on the asteroid highway. It’s pretty obvious we’re

sailing in uncharted waters on this solar system real estate

development business. A lot of do-gooder busy bodies back on

Earth desperately want to find out what’s going on way out here.

Leefwater is a very cagey operative. He’s the very best at what he

does in matters such as these, but…anyway, it’s a big step for

everyone involved. We’ll get the necessary bills passed.

We always do. You simply have to scratch the right backs

and procure the necessary stimulus funds to ramp it all in

the right direction…if you catch my drift? Once everything

is pushed through and squared away in Washington you can

drop your giant bubble domes as fast as you might on any and

all the asteroids you want to,” he finished and then took a

couple of moon-like steps forward as if that would help his

efforts to whisper something important to Woods.

     “Just you don’t lose that list of names I gave you back

in your station office. They’re all, for the most part, fine

upstanding men and women back there on capital hill. They

have a vested interest in all this and want to see it carried

out all clean and sweet…capiche?”

     “I understand,” Woods pushed out a silver circled index

finger and thumb. “It will all be one giant leap for mankind

right?” he laughed.

                   

                           

                                ___ The End ___

Iron Mom

Doug DonnanExecutive Editor/OMNI-GENRE+MAGAZINE!                                                                 

donnan.doug@yahoo.com

‘This story is dedicated to all the men and women who gave their lives

in defense of our country..’

                                           

                                            











"Iron Mom"      

                                                      

by

Doug Donnan 

                                                  (Vacaville, California)

     “I have no idea who she is or where in the hell she got that experimental XOS2 suit

sheriff, but I do know I’m worried about tryin’ to stop her,” Officer Saltino said as they

trailed behind her in their patrol car. The cemetery was much larger than a casual driver-

by might think. The pea stone path that wound all around the undulating green mounds

and foot worn hillocks was made just wide enough for a standard hearse to negotiate.

     “She’s wearin’ a damn’ Iron Man suit!” Sheriff Bench bellowed with a boiling pique of

aggravation. “How in the hell’d she get in here with that gravestone? Where’s she goin’?” 

     “A jogger tol’ me he saw an olive green army truck pull up to the gates of this

cemetery and let her and that headstone giant-step out the back. Then the soldiers just

drove off! She tol’ the caretaker out here that she was comin’ in to do for herself what

our government boys should have done way back then, after it happened, said her son

was killed overseas in Iraq. He was a genuwine war hero…medals, ribbons, Purple Heart

the whole nine yards. Damned caretaker said he made a quick sign of the cross and let

her just march on in carryin’ that big ol’ marble tombstone out in front of herself like

Moses comin’ down the mountain with the tablets.”

     “I’ll be damned,” Bench breathed out as he pulled at his hanging bank of blubbery

chins. “You know, I’ve seen those damn XOS2 exoskeleton suits demonstrated on the

Internet somewhere. It showed that a normal person can lift up ta’ five-hundred pounds

without breakin’ a sweat or an arm. Now I don’t know if I’d consider this little gal to be

normal, but man she sure seems to possess more than her fair share of gumpshun’.

Drop back and give her some space Salty, but let’s stay on her. I gotta’ see the end of

this little crazy parade.”

     “Oh-Oh,” Saltino chirped. “You must be psychic chief. Speakin’ of parades, take a

look in your side rear-view mirror. That’s my jogger witness and he’s got a crowd with

him.”

      Sure enough, not too far back and walking briskly up the winding stone cemetery

pathway was a man in a red running outfit and a sizeable platoon of other non-descript

citizens.

     “Should I call in for some back up chief?” Saltino asked as he reached for the

Motorola handset mounted just beneath a luminescent green GPS screen.

     “Seems to me like she’s tryin’ her best to make sumthin’ right…not to do anything

wrong.I think she can…I mean, we can handle this,” Sheriff Bench replied as he 

intercepted DeputySaltino’s bony hand and directed it up to the steering wheel.

“We’ll just follow the leader.”

     “Roger that chief,” from Saltino as he geared down. They rolled ahead…slowly.

*     *     *

     “Lookee’ there chief she’s cuttin’ across into the grass. She’s headin’ off down into

that valley,” Saltino alerted as he glared over the steering wheel.

    

     “Hmm,” from Bench as he watched through the windshield, “the valley of the shadow

of death.”

     “How’s that chief?”

     “Nothing… pull up there where she stomped over the stone curb. I think she’s

zeroing in on her target.”

     “This is too weird,” breathed Saltino as he guided the squad car over.

*     *     *

    

     In time the entire throng consisting of the colorful jogger, assorted curious onlookers

and the two steadfast, but standoffish cops had formed a fair sized semi-circle around the

now stationary iron maiden. She had managed to position herself, by means of a series

of several rather deft hydraulic maneuvers, directly astride a tidy elongated oblong

hillock…a grave. The mechanical mom, poised there ominously straddling the green

grass grave, held the alabaster marble headstone directly out in front of her with cable

whirring titanium arms. She kept it out there for a moment studying the chiseled

dedication on its smooth face. Then, suddenly, she combined a shocking motorized thrust

with the omnipresent force of gravity and planted the polished stone directly on top of the

heartless bronze marker placed there by the government to ‘honor’ her son. For the

briefest of moments the earth shook.

     “Jesus!” Saltino called out.

     

     There were assorted gasps and shouts of surprise from the other stunned onlookers.

Then, an eerie but peaceful silence followed. Her mission now complete, the mechanized

woman rotated and stomped off back for the cemetery’s front gate. Sheriff Bench slowly

stepped forward from his position at the rear of the sight. Officer Saltino dutifully

followed him.

     The sun hung overhead in the blue sky a silent witness, like a burning golden medal. 

    

     Bench pulled up just shy of the silent marble monument. He stared down at the

chiseled inscription for quite some time. Soon the others quietly advanced and did likewise.

They all stood there all around and about. Some removed their caps and bowed their heads

while still more than a few others did drop to their knees. The sheriff removed his dark

blue service cap and positioned it over his heaving chest.

     “Take your damn hat off you idiot,” he ordered with a slight sniffle at the gawking

Saltino. “This man lying here was an American soldier!”

                                                   _____ The End _______ 

Enter The Drone

Doug Donnan

Executive Editor/OMNI-GENRE+MAGAZINE!

donnan.doug@yahoo.com

                                    

                       








"qqqq [ENTER] the Drone"

                               by

                       Doug Donnan

[ 2018 / San Diego, Ca. / Chevron Gas & Go (GOSE Lic.) Serv Sta / ATM ]

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                                               _____ The End _____